200 WHALING 



of the Huntress, ship, was lost in 1845, ''taken down by a whale, 

 last we see of him he had a knife in his hand and was trying to 

 cut the line." 



Stories similar in kind, if not in degree, to the famous tale of 

 the Awashonks occur again and again. That of the Triton, 

 Captain Spencer, is one, which fell into the hands of natives at 

 Sydenham's Island. Seizing Captain Spencer and his boat's 

 crew, the natives were going to murder them in cold blood, when 

 the wife of a chief threw herself between the white men and their 

 assailants and persuaded the natives to hold the little party as 

 prisoners. This they did and sent a boarding expedition to take 

 the ship. They swarmed over her sides and carried her decks by 

 storm; they murdered and plundered with wild glee. Suddenly 

 the cry, ''Sail ho!" from the rigging, whither the crew had fled, 

 startled the Islanders and frightened them off the ship, and the 

 survivors, commanded by the mate, got her to sea and made 

 Tahiti. But the killed, the New Bedford Shipping List says, 

 were, "William Paisley of New Bedford, aged 15 years — he has 

 left a widowed mother to lament his untimely fate; Andrew 

 Folger of Nantucket, 24 years of age, cooper of the ship, and 

 two natives of the South Sea Islands. The first and third 

 officers and five of the crew were badly wouhded." 



Now and again the old logs comment scathingly on the diet 

 of salt junk and old ship's bread, with only flour duff to break 

 its monotony; and often marginal notes are set down for the 

 information of thrifty owners, which tell of breaking out water 

 and bread and flour, beef and pork, and clothing and tobacco. 

 The account book of the Morea, which sailed for the whaHng 

 grounds in 1856 (as beautiful a document as I have ever 

 seen), records all manner of supplies that came on board during 

 the voyage; among them were potatoes, onions, dried apples, 

 cabbages, turnips, and beef and hogs. We know, too, that 

 many a fowl has clucked or crowed on a whaler's deck and has 

 given its life and feathers to appear, plucked and browned, on 

 the cabin table. The whalers, though, were a long time between 

 ports; fresh vegetables were likely to come on board only in 

 time to fight off scurvy, and never, so long as the captain was 



